Chapter 30 - To Measure Worth
Upon waking Legolas had found himself looking at the familiar sight of the ceiling in his personal quarters of the White City. It was a beautiful, welcoming vision to behold and after several moments of basking in the comfort he felt within this structure he began to wonder if it had all simply been a dream.
A cruel series of images it would have been, but if dreaming had been the cause of what he had endured then it was still a much more desirable scenario. No lives would have been lost, mortality placed on those it was not meant for always seemed so ironically cruel and yet in this case it was the only way to achieve freedom.
The falsehood of his hopes were quickly smashed when Legolas lifted his head and was accosted by an intense pain that started in his temples and slowly moved down the length of his body. Flopping his head back down on the pillow, his eyes clenched shut to fight the discomfort, the elf groaned softly, both out of torment and frustration. When the pain subsided and he reopened his eyes the white, textured ceiling was blocked from his view by the concerned faces of several of his friends.
Most prominently was that of Aragorn, which loomed directly in front of his face, the King’s gray eyes boring deeply into his own blue ones. It was a long minute before a smile appeared on the man’s regal face. Legolas rolled his eyes around stopping momentarily on each of his friends, the expressions on each of them mirroring that of Aragorn’s - relief, concern, love.
From that moment of waking on, for the next two weeks, Legolas was seldom left alone, something he was both grateful for and annoyed with. He had been so very alone while in Marek and yet he never had any time to himself to think. His friends had set up a schedule, one would be there when he woke, when he ate and when he slept. One was always there helping him recover his strength, re-bandage his wounds, making sure he ate properly. It was both calming and unnerving at the same time.
Each day of healing and fighting to regain control of his body seemed an eternity to the elf and he longed for nothing more than to just make it all go away.
Now, sitting on the balcony of his personal quarters, a blanket draped over his thin, trembling shoulders, Legolas gazed out over the Fields of Pelennor. He had found himself out here on several occasions, his eyes staring to the South. Whenever he was granted some moments peace from the constant ministrations, the golden elf would steal away to the balcony, his thoughts always wandering to Nienna, Lómëdil and Adaria.
Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as memories flooded back to him. He hated himself for being so weak. He hadn’t done anything to help the three elves and they had lost their lives. He had been used as a weapon against them and they as a method of control against him. He hated that he was so ill and that he couldn’t control the emotions that he felt. Most of all, he hated the feeling of helplessness that had consumed him so much lately.
Legolas wanted, more than anything, to just be by himself, in the woods of Ithilien, reconnecting with Arda but the elf could barely walk across the room. He was weak and ill and his knee could only hold his weight for a few steps before buckling. He had resorted to using a walking stick to relieve some of the strain on the damaged joint. The prince felt so unlike himself that he began to wonder if he really was Legolas Greenleaf, Son of Thranduil.
His healing process had been slowed so dramatically by the venom that had been poured into him. He could feel the vile liquid burning in his veins and surging through his head. Still, the most frustrating effect was the trembling. It had decreased in intensity but still shook his entire body and Legolas could not control it.
"Legolas?" The Prince jumped at the sound of his name and hand placed upon his shoulder. He didn’t turn to greet his visitor, he didn’t acknowledge the dark elf at all, he just continued to stare out over the fields.
"My Prince, how do you fare?" Angrod pressed a little more for Legolas’ attention.
Legolas sighed and remained quiet for a moment before answering, his voice still raspy, but not quite as strained. "The same as yesterday." His eyes never leaving the South.
Angrod sat next to his prince and looked directly at him. "I am returning to Ithilien. I have come to bid you farewell. I will return as soon as possible."
This got Legolas’ attention and he stiffly turned his head to Angrod, puzzlement in his eyes. "Why do you leave now?"
Angrod held Legolas’ gaze, willing him to see no placed fault or accusation in his eyes. "Those in Ithilien do not know all that has transpired, I think that it is time they were informed of your fate and the fate of the others."
Swallowing hard and lifting a trembling hand to his brow, Legolas rubbed his head and fought the tears. "I should be the one to tell them. I am the one who failed them."
"You have failed no one My Prince."
Legolas shook his head at this statement, ignoring the pain it caused. He knew that the death of the other elves was a result of his behavior. He knew that his status had also been a cause of the torment they had all undergone.
"Would we have sent a party after the others had we known where they were?" Legolas asked with a quivering voice.
"Only you can truly answer that Legolas. The decision would have been yours to make." Angrod stated simply as he knelt before the elf prince.
"All of my life I have been regarded above others. Elves have died to protect me. Kalen, the Lord of Marek, paid more when he discovered whom I was. Aragorn risked the lives of his men, two of which died, to bring me home." Legolas paused, almost as if in midthought, he searched for the words to explain how he felt.
Before he could continue, Angrod interjected. "You are a Prince of noble blood. You are the son of Thranduil and grandson of Oropher, whether you want to accept it or not you are of a higher status than others and your life is valued above others."
"Why? I have done naught to earn such a status."
Angrod laughed at this remark. "You have done naught? You were one of the Nine Walkers, one of the only elves to fight at the Black Gate in the War of the Ring. You have led your people with such honor and love that they are willing to die for you, whether it be their duty or not. Even were you not a Prince of Elves I would gladly lay down my life to protect you and I know that you would do the same for me." Tears now appeared in Angrod’s own eyes and he took a shuddering breath before continuing. "That you believe that you are of equal standing with other elves you have led says much of your character and it is one of the reasons that you are so well loved."
Legolas listened to Angrod, eyes glistening with tears. It was both a blessing and a curse to be a Prince and in all his years, the golden elf had never learned how to balance the two. He enjoyed being with his people and socializing with them on equal ground. He welcomed all into his home and considered all opinions before making a decision. He did not force any to come to Ithilien to help and granted those ready for the Undying Lands leave, with his blessing. To have Kalen use his bloodline so maliciously had been a shock to Legolas.
"I doubt that Alcandir felt my life was worth him almost losing his own. I doubt those soldiers would have opted to travel to Harad given the choice."
Angrod thought about this for just a moment. "The soldiers were given a choice My Prince. And Alcandir was honored to have been selected for the job and pleased that he had succeeded."
The two sat in silence for a long while. Legolas’ thoughts still on the horrible memories of his time in Harad and the value of life. He did not want to be valued above anyone. He had learned too much during his time with the Fellowship to ever believe that one being was better than another. It had taken each member of that unique group to accomplish what had been accomplished. Each had contributed in their own way. Legolas was proud and thankful for the time he had been allotted with the Fellowship and would not allow the Lord of Marek to take that away from him.
"I cannot ever ask anyone to sacrifice their lives for me again. I am no better than any other." Legolas’ soft voice broke the silence.
"You may not ask it, but it will be done. You cannot take that honor from me. I promised your father that I would protect you. I failed once, I will not fail again." Anger seethed from Angrod. "Value is placed by individuals, by friends and family. I value your life and friendship more than my own and that is my decision and if there are others who choose to make that decision then there is naught you can do about it."
Angrod enveloped Legolas in a hug and held the Prince while quiet sobs racked his form. The hurt in Legolas’ heart was too great to fight the tears any longer and he let them loose on his friend. Angrod was right, Legolas would sacrifice his own life for the dark elf, he would sacrifice his life for any of the elves in his colony if the need arose.
Angrod waited for his Prince to calm then released his hold. He smiled then rose from his seat and stepped toward the balcony door. Something stopped him in his tracks and he stood in the doorway for a moment.
"We would have sent a party to retrieve the other elves My Prince." Angrod’s voice was strong and determined. "You would not have let them suffer there alone. You would have led the rescue party yourself, had you known where they were." The dark elf then bowed low and left Legolas to himself.
The blonde elf sat for just a bit longer, thinking about Angrod’s words, then reached down and grabbed the walking stick he had been using. He rose from the bench on which he sat and slowly made his way back into the room and toward the door. He felt awkward using the support, it made him feel clumsy and weak, but he couldn’t move without it so he had accepted its help.
Ever so slowly, Legolas made his way through the halls of the Citadel and out the main doors. How he managed to get this far without being spotted by one of his many mothering friends was still a mystery to him, but he was thankful nevertheless. The stairs outside the Citadel presented the most challenge but the golden elf took them slowly and was awarded when he finally reached the garden that was his destination.
Each step was a struggle, his knee protesting under the extended use, his shoulder screaming at him for the pressure placed upon it. But with each step his resolve strengthened and his muscles seemed to become stronger, his pain seemed to diminish. Each step brought a new image to his mind. The frightened faces of Nienna, Lómëdil and Adaria, the compassionate eyes of Alcandir. The memory of each of these individuals leant him strength.
He longed so much to release the three elves from the pain they had endured, he was calmed by the knowledge that they were now in the Halls of Mandos, safe and at ease.
He desired to speak with Alcandir again but knew that there was nothing that he could do or say to express his gratitude to the bounty hunter. The man did not even know him and had risked his life to save the elf. What type of person did such a thing? He feared that he would never know, his hopes disappearing with the man himself.
After much work and determination, Legolas settled himself up against a malorn tree, which had been gifted to Arwen at her wedding. He leaned into the tree and listened as the tree welcomed him home and he in turn thanked the tree for its comforting support and beauty. He promised that he would soon be sitting in its branches again.
A gentle breeze kicked up and rustled the leaves overhead, Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled a large cool breath. No coughing overcame him and his lungs did not burn with the large amount of air. His hair was picked up by the breeze and tossed around his face, tickling his nose. He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and then reached his hand up to brush the hair away from his face.
Legolas then stopped with his hand suspended in front of his face. His long slender fingers were stretched out and he turned his hand over looking from his palm to the back of his hand. A large smile spread over his face, it reached up to his eyes and the blue within brightened. His hand was steady. There was no more trembling. He then lifted his other hand and held it out next to the other, neither shook, neither arm ached. They were both unwavering.